


From Scratch

by Louffox



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF), youtube - Fandom
Genre: Cuties, Established Relationship, M/M, Oneshot, Septiplier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 12:56:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4020667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louffox/pseuds/Louffox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're out of pancake mix?! Now what??"</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Scratch

**Author's Note:**

> I've started picking up Septiplier prompts and this was one I saw on Tumblr and couldn't resist. I'm writing more shorts like this, and a few longer ones. If you've got any prompts for me, comment with them, and maybe I'll pick them up!
> 
> I don't know how I fell into this trash pile of a ship. I didn't mean to.

“Jack, you didn’t pick up pancake mix?” Mark cried. Jack peered into the kitchen to see nothing but the back of his boyfriends’ legs- the man had climbed half in the refrigerator to search, and several jars of jam and bottles of juice had found their way to the floor.

“No, I didn’t, because I have literally never heard of one hundred percent pre-made pancake mix,” he scoffed.

“This is America, not Ireland. Everything is pre-done. We’re lazy fuckers, and _this_ lazy fucker was planning on making pancakes, and now I can’t,” he pouted, emerging and picking up the things he’d scattered on the floor.

“Well, you’ve got baking things, right? Flour, baking soda, sugar, eggs. We can just make some from scratch.”

“From scratch.”

“ _Yes_. How hard-,”

“Don’t you _dare_ say ‘how hard can it be’. Don’t you bring that down on us,” Mark interrupted.

“Okay, okay, fine! They'll be amazing, you'll see!"

"Bummer that I’ll probably never live to actually try them, because I’m going to starve to death cause it’s gonna take so long.”

“Quit being such a pussy. Where’s your iPad, I’ll look up a recipe, alright?”

“It’s in the bathroom. I’ll call the fire department as a preemptive precaution.”

“Har de har.”

Ten minutes later, Jack had found a recipe they both agreed on, and they were measuring ingredients.

“Jack, it said 2 teaspoons of vanilla, you didn’t measure it out!”

“I eyeballed it, it’s fine. My Mum does it like this all the time.”

“Your ‘Mum’ has probably been cooking for a few more decades than us! Now did it say ‘eggs’ or ‘egg whites’? Cause that’s important.”

“Er… Just ‘eggs’. Which cupboard would I find brown sugar?”

“I got it, you do the eggs.” Jack cracked two eggs into the bowl, and turned to see Mark had climbed onto the counter.

“What are you doing?!”

“Shut up, I couldn’t reach,” Mark grumbled, retrieving the brown sugar from the top of the cupboard and dropping down off the counter.

“I could’ve got it.”

“I don’t need your help, I had it fine.”

“Sure you did,” Jack snorted, kissing the top of his head as he passed.

“So help me God, I will poison these pancakes and kill us both,” Mark muttered, getting the milk out.

They put the batter together and hesitantly deemed the consistency right, and then began frying them on the griddle. They had a big nonstick griddle they often used- it had been a thoughtful housewarming gift from Bob and Wade. Breakfast was practically the only thing the couple could cook confidently, and it only extended to eggs and bacon and sausage.

“These actually smell alright,” Jack observed, poking at one with a spatula. “Think they’re good to flip?”

“Sure, go for it.”

“Going for it!” Jack shouted unexpectedly, slotting the spatula under a pancake-

-" _flipping like a BOSS!"-_

-and launching it right into the ceiling.

The irishman burst into manic laughter, putting both hands (one still with the spatula) on his head.

“What. The. _Fuck_ ,” Mark said, blinking, stunned.

“Well, that went not to sixty real quick! I didn’t think I’d hit the ceiling!” Jack cackled.

“ _What the fuck_!?!?” Mark shouted, snatching the spatula from his laughing boyfriend. “Gimmie that! You’re out, go sit down! No more cooking for you! Out!” he hollered, swatting him out of the kitchen with the spatula. There was no real rage in his voice, just incredulity. Maybe a little bit of frustration- he was a little hangry.

“I’m not sorry! That was brilliant!”

“You know who’s gonna climb on the counter and scrape pancake off the ceiling today?”

“Me!” Jack cheered, throwing a hand up in the air.

“Jack.”

“Sorry,” he said, still grinning, sitting at the counter and watching Mark flip the rest of the pancakes like a normal human being.

“You’re a fucking lunatic.”

“Mmmm. You like it.”

“I’ll admit, I do.” He eyed the pancake stuck to the ceiling. “Mostly.”

The pancakes were delicious.

 


End file.
